His Brother
by Neon-Storm123
Summary: Billieard/Frickey/Fronk When abuse is thrown too far, Frank gets moved from his father's home and into foster care where he meets the boy that would change his entire existence for the better


Frank walked home from school slower today than ever before, flash backs of what his father had said that morning kept reminding him of what would happen the second his father noticed he was home. Frank shook his head clear of such horrible thoughts for a moment, but they just kept returning to his young mind. Such things shouldn't be thought about by a seven year old boy. He should be thinking of meeting new friends, and monster trucks, and avoiding girls with cooties. But no; his thoughts were of his father, and what his father had done to him every day of every month of every year sense his mother had been suffocated in her sleep by an unsolved mystery mad-man.

_He crept up the stairs of the basement as quietly as possible; he knew his father would be asleep. Most likely drunk as well. Frank knew exactly what would happen if he woke his father up on the way out the door. He crept over a pile of beer bottles on the floor, as he took another step he looked over his shoulder at his dad's sleeping form, and CRASH! Frank had accidentally knocked a bottle from the small table in his path, the glass smashing against the floor instantly waking his father._

"_Frank, what the fuck are you doing!" He screamed, rising from his recliner, bottle in hand._

_Frank swallowed the fear and spoke quietly, "S-sorry, father… I-I was heading out to scho-"_

"_Do you know what a fucking headache I have from last night, you fucking cunt!"_

"_I-I'm so-"_

"_YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU LITTLE FUCK!" He came closer, lifting Frank off the ground by his shirt-collar, "WHEN YOU GET HOME TONIGHT, YOU BETTER EXPECT YOUR FUCKING FATE!"_

_Frank's eyes grew wider, "N-no, dad… p-please… not again! I'm s-still sore from last night, NO!"_

"_You should have fucking thought of that before you woke me up, you little fucking cunt-ass bitch!" With that, Frank's father threw the boy to the floor, and sauntered back to his spot in the living room._

_Frank looked up off of the cement when he finally reached his school. Even though the place wasn't fun; and usually was painful, it was a hell of a lot better than Frank's home was._

_He sighed through his nose, walked the steps to the front entrance, pushed the door open, and walked in slowly, trying not to cause too much friction with his legs because of the pain it was sure to cause him._

"_Hey, Bryar!" _

_Frank turned his head to see who it was that was calling him by his last name. That disgraceful last name that made him wish he was more than only half-dead every time anyone called him by it. It was the principal, Ms. Simmons._

"_Y-yes, ma'am..?" Frank asked, in deep fear of getting scolded by the woman._

"_Your father's first name is Bob, correct?"_

_Frank nodded._

"_And your address… it's 8723 West Placement Avenue, yes?"_

_Frank was confused why she was asking him this, but he nodded again anyway._

"_Okay, thank you Sweetheart, now scoot off to class before you're tardy."_

_Frank nodded one last time, then walked away to his class for the day._

Frank turned the corner of the block his house was on. He stopped on the sidewalk in front of the broken-down building that he called "home." Th decretive shutters that were once blue, were peeling and crooked; nearly falling off of the windows' sides. One of the front windows was broken and the crack was inches away from splitting the entire glass piece in half, maybe once it did fall off, Frank could use it to end this hell he was in.

Suddenly, the door flung open; a blue-eyed beast standing in the frame, "Welcome home, cuntbag, you better be fucking ready!" Bob screamed, walking out and gripping Frank's arm, tugging him inside, and slamming the door on entry.

Frank shuttered from the sound of the lock clicking into its place inside the door's frame. His father walked over only one step, and tangled his fingers in frank's long, thick hair, and shoved him forward onto his hands and knees.

"I swear to god, I'm not stopping if you fucking bleed-out all over the god damned tile!" Bob shouted at the weeping seven year old under him. He smirked.

Bob grabbed the hem of Frank's waistband, and tore his denim-jeans down to his knees, shoving Frank's head against the floor while doing so.

Frank cried silently, he knew if his father saw or heard him crying, the rape would be rougher and more bloody than it would have been.

Swiftly, Bob rammed his hardened-member into his son's asshole, starting the motions right away. In. Out. In. Out. Deeper. In. Out. In. Out. Harder. In. Out.

"SEE WHAT YOU FUCKING GET! YOU ARE A HORRIBLE PERSON, YOU'RE LUCKY I FEED YOU! YOU DON'T DESERVE LIFE! NEITHER DID YOUR MOTHER! YOU ARE BOTH WORTHLESS!"

"FATHER, P-PLEASE… PLEASE S-STOP! I-IT HURTS!"

"OH, IT FUCKING HURTS, DOES IT!"

Harder. In. out. In. out. In. out. Harder, faster, rougher. In. out. In. out.

Frank wanted so badly to pass out. He didn't want to feel the pain anymore. He wanted it to stop. It was so strong, the pain was, and Frank knew his ass was bleeding more than it ever had before. He tried to think of somewhere else, but that didn't fucking work. Why did it have to be _him!_? Why was _he_ the only one that got this? He must truly be a bad child to deserve such a thing.

"I'M GOING TO FUCKING COME IN YOUR FUCKING ASS! AND YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU'RE NOT ALOUD TO FUCKING SHOWER TONIGHT, GOT THAT!"

"Y-yes, fath-er."

In. Out. In. out. Harder. Deeper. Deeper. "GAAAAH!"

"OWWWW!" Frank cried, feeling his insides burn as they were filled with his own father's semen.

Bob pulled his cock out of his son's ass, and looked down at the boy, anger in his ice-blue eyes. "Frank,"

Frank looked up slowly, shaking and about to vomit, "Y-yes f-father?"

"You got your… Fucking… BLOOD ON MY DICK!" As he screamed the last part of the sentence, he slammed the toe of his boot into Frank's face. The blow making everything in the boy's mind go completely dark.

Frank awoke to the sound of sirens outside. But… they were so close.

He stood slowly, his mind still fuzzy and his body weak and aching, and walked over to the front window, reaching up to draw the curtain to see what was happening.

"Don't touch that, Frank." His father said before swigging back the remainder of beer in the bottle in his hand.

Frank turned his head back at the man, then laid back down on the floor, the tile making a cold-burn on his bare thighs. He didn't know where his pants were at the moment, but it didn't matter now anyway, it wasn't like there was a loving mother in the house that would be there with a camera, sure to take a "cute" picture of her child sleeping buck-naked on the floor. Though, he didn't sleep, he pretended to, because the second his eyes shut, he heard the door come crashing in.

"BOB BRYAR, DON'T MOVE!" a man yelled.

Frank heard a few other people coming into his house, he heard the click of a safety being turned off, so he knew they all probably had guns pointed at his father.

"Is this your child!" The same man from before yelled.

"Yeah." His father said bluntly, "You finally here to take him? He's been stinking up my house sense he got here."

"Officer Wentz, Get that sick bastard to the car and read him his rights."

"Yes Sargent Toro!" Wentz yelled as a reply to the first man.

Frank listened to Wentz escorting his father out of the house, and the sound of foot-steps grew close to him.

"Psst. Wake up, son." Toro nudged Frank gently, "Are you alive, son? Open your eyes."

Frank did as he was told and let his eye-lids slip up. The police officer was pretty… funny looking. He had a big light-brown afro, was obviously tall even though he was squatting, and his sleeves didn't quite reach his wrists enough. Though, his voice was calm and soothing.

"What's your name?"

Frank hesitated, "Uhm… I-I'm F-Frank…" He said, his throat still sore from screaming.

"Hello Frank, I'm Ray. I'd like for you to come with me. Okay?"

Frank looked down at his body that was still sprawled out on the tile-flooring. "…B-But… Uhm… I-I d-d-don't h-have… p-pants."

Ray chuckled warmly, "That's okay, go get some and I'll wait here for you."

Frank didn't say anything for a minute, "B-But… I-I don't know where th-they… w-went, a-actually…"

"Why don't you get a fresh pair?"

Now Frank was confused. He only had _one_ pair of pants. He'd only ever had _one _pair.

"Y-You do have more than one pair… right?" Ray said, still kind in his voice.

"N-No…"

"Oh… Don't worry, Frank, no one else will see you but me, it's okay. Alright?"

Frank stared at him for a moment, then nodded shyly.

"Okay." Ray said happily, then grabbed one of Frank's hands gently, leading him out the door to his car.

Frank and Ray arrived at a large building not more than ten minutes after leaving Frank's house, they even stopped to get Frank some pants along the way.

"Okay, Frank, I want to ask you a few questions if that's alright with you?"

"Uh… O-Okay, Ray…"

"First off. Frank, do you know how your mother died?"

Frank thought for a moment, "U-Uhm… A-all I remember w-was seeing Father walk out o-of his and mom's r-room… w-with… a r-really big t-trash b-bag…"

Ray nodded and wrote something into his notebook, "Thank you. And, after your mom died, did your father change at all? Did he start treating you different than before?"

Frank's breath hitched in his throat, "U-Ugh… F-Father… Father… Uh… S-Started to… Uhm… Father started to… Make m-me bleed…A lot."

Ray looked up from his note-pad, "F-Frank… How did he make you bleed a lot? And where at?"

"H-He… He made me bleed from my… M-My… Butt." Frank was on the verge of tears, but he knew that tears brought more pain, "A-And he used his… H-his… Uhm… His 'dick'."

Ray stopped writing, his arms quivering slightly from the image of such a fragile boy being raped by such a horrible, evil man. Not only that, but that man was his own father!

"Uh… Thank you, Frank… N-Now, I'll have to ask you to wait here. I'll be back in a flash!" With that, Ray left the interrogation room.

Frank stared at his worn-out convers. He had had those shoes for four years; ever sense he could walk. It was amazing that they still fit, even though they were tight, they still covered his feet like they were supposed to. He expectedly started to cry now that he was alone and he wouldn't be punished for it.

Ray and Frank walked hand-in-hand to the front-door of the big house. Ray rang the door-bell and waited, smiling down at Frank sweetly.

"Hello!" A beautiful male voice called over as he opened the door.

"Hello, Billie!" Ray said happily to the short man in the door-frame

Billie looked down at the terrified Frank, "And you must be my new best friend, huh?"

Frank clutched harder onto Ray's shirt-bottom, pulling the one side out of its tuck in his pants.

Billie leaned down, his sweet smile casting over his face lightly. He outstretched a hand and looked into Frank's eyes, "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name?"

Frank unclasped a little, "I-I'm Frank. F-Frank Iero…" Frank had taken his mother's old last name.

"Well, Hello Frank Iero, I'm Billie Joe Armstrong, I'll be taking care of you. Well, me and my husband, of course!"

Frank stared at Billie stunned. A "Husband"? A man can't have a husband, could he? That makes no sense! Father had always told him that men should, and could, NEVER be together in a loving relationship! What the hell was going on!

Frank stayed quiet, still holding onto Ray's shirt.

Ray looked down, "Now, Frank. I know what your father said about two men being together, but it's not true. If two men love eachother, they can be together. Understand?" Ray said, still kindly, but stern at the same time.

Frank nodded.

"Okay, now, go with Billie Joe. I'll be here every Friday to check up on how you're doing. Okay?"

Frank nodded again, and released the grip he held on Ray's clothing, and placed his hand into Billie's, which was still reached out to him.

Billie smiled, wrapping his fingers around Frank's small hand, "Don't worry, Frank, we'll have loads of fun. Just you wait!"

Ray smiled, "Bye Billie, bye Frank!"

Billie closed the door, and led Frank into the living room.

"Go ahead and sit there on the couch, Frank" Billie said, and Frank sat. Billie sat opposite on the coffee table in front of the couch, "Now, Frank, we have some rules in this house, okay? They're very simple and pretty basic. First off, if you want something, just ask either me or Gerard, not Mikey, okay?"

Frank half-nodded. Who the fuck is Mikey and Gerard!

"Good. Secondly, knock before you enter anyone else's rooms or the bathroom, and keep the doors shut, please."

Frank nodded yet again.

"And lastly…" Billie leaned a little closer, "The most important rule…" Now Billie was close enough to Frank that is they moved forward an inch, their foreheads would meet, "Never… and I mean NEVER try to be anything you're not!" Billie smiled, "Because who you are is amazing no matter what, so don't change yourself for anyone!"

Frank smiled the smallest smile that could grace his young face and nodded again, "I-I won't."

Billie smiled bigger (if that was even possible) and stood up. "Now, I'll show you your room." He gestured to Frank to follow, and started walking down a hallway that was located by the kitchen entry.

Frank followed close behind Billie down the hall, and they both stopped at a white door.

Billie threw the door open and stepped aside for Frank to go in first. Frank stepped in the thresh-hold slowly; examining the bedroom.

A sheet-less mattress laid in the left corner of the room, directly under a window. At the end of the bed was a wooden chest, the same width as the bed itself; on the right side of the room there was a dresser made of the same wood as the chest. It was a fairly large room, and the light from the window was enough to make the entire room bright. The room smelt clean, like the smell of a new house; pure, untouched.

"We can get you a better bed-frame, but for now this'll have to do. Mikey sleeps on a mattress on the floor because he says it's more comfortable than on a box-spring, so might as well try it a few nights, yeah?"

"Uh… O-okay."

"Alright… well, Gerard and Mikey are at the store right now getting you some clothes and other things you'll need; so in the meantime, what do you want to do?"

Frank looked up into Billie's green eyes, "Uh… I-I don't… I don't know…"

Billie's smile went down for an instant, then popped back up, "I know! Do you like movies, Frank!"

"…Y-Yeah."

Billie smiled bigger, "Then come with me!" He grabbed the boy's hand and went to take a single step forward, but the second he did, Frank fell to the ground, sobbing.

"P-PLEASE! DON'T RAPE ME!" Frank screamed, then slid on his butt backwards across the floor, ramming his back into the wall, and stuck his arms over his face as a reflex for protection, still crying profusely. "I PROMISE I'LL DO W-WHAT I'M TOLD THE BEST-BEST I-I CAN! J-JUST… DON'T H-HURT ME!"

It took Billie a moment to process what had just occurred. He ran his tongue across his lips and knelt down slowly in front of where Frank had landed, "Frank, I'm not going to rape you. NO ONE is going to rape you anymore. I'm sorry I scared you, Frank. Are you alright?"

Frank lowered his arms slowly away from his small face, "D-Do you promise..?" He asked innocence gracing his terrified features.

"I promise, Frank. I'll never let anything so horrible happen to you ever again. Do you trust me?"

Frank paused. "Yes, Billie, I-I trust you…" Frank said, sliding his back up the wall so he was in a standing position, and reaching his hand over to place it into Billie's already open hand.

Billie smiled and stood, walking hand-in-hand down the hall way with Frank into the living room.

"Billie, dear, we're home!" Gerard called as he walked in the door, struggling to carry multiple bags on each arm.

"Oh, baby, let me help you with those!" Billie called back, hopping up to assist Gerard with the bags. Before Billie reached him though, Gerard had dropped the bags and ran over to where frank was sitting on the couch.

"Hello! You're Frank, right? I'm Gerard!" Gerard smiled and reached a hand out to Frank.

Frank sent him a half-smile and placed his hand in Gerard's, "H-Hi Gerard…"

Gerard tilted his head, staring at Frank's nose and lip, "… Are those real piercings..?"

"Uh… Y-Yes, Gerard…"

Gerard smiled wider, "They're very nice. Looks good on you!" He said.

"Dad, could you help me please..?" Mikey said, struggling with a few bags that were slung up his arms.

"I'm coming, Mikes." Billie said kindly, walking over to the eight year old boy by the front-door, and yet again, before he even reached his destination, Mikey was gone to go see his new little friend.

"Hello! I'm Mikey! I like music, and shark movies… but I hate sharks… and I love playing video games and reading comics… and… and… and I… And I love playing my bass! I can show you if you want! I bet you'd be an awesome guitarist! You have long fingers that would make it easier for you! And… wow… You're pretty short… That's cute! And I…"

As Mikey rambled his likes and dislikes to Frank, Gerard turned to Billie to help him with the bags that were neglected not too long ago.

"Mikey really seems to like him a lot." Gerard said.

"Mikey likes everyone until they do him wrong, dear." Billie said, letting out a sweet, joking chuckle.

"I think he's adorable, BeeJ. Though… he seems a little scared."

"Yeah, Gee, I know. But… you know what he's been through. I'd hate to see someone totally normal after experiencing something like that, y'know?"

Gerard sighed through his nose, "Yeah, I get what you mean. Either way, though, I'm going to love him as much as I love little Mikey! And I love how close in age they are; they might be great friends pretty soon!"

"I think they already are, Gee!" Billie said, chuckling warmly as he looked over his shoulder at Mikey showing Frank how to hold a guitar properly.

Gerard smiled, and leaned against the counter, watching Mikey and Frank playing.

Billie leaned against Gerard's back, wrapped his arms around his waist, and rested his chin on Gerard's shoulder. "I love you, Gee."

"I love you too, BeeJ."

Frank awoke in a cold-sweat, beads of the perspiration tripling down his face. His breath intake swift, making his chest rise and fall quickly. He threw the covers off of him and tip-toed into the bathroom, still trying to shake the nightmare from his mind.

He leaned his elbows on the counter, and stared into his reflection in the mirror, examining his face to make sure it really was just a dream.

"W-Why… Why does th-this happen to… Me..?" He whispered to himself, resting his elbows on the space around the sink, and setting his chin on is palms. He was crying now, the images forever pierced in his mind.

"_Dad!" He called, stepping in the thresh-hold, avoiding beer bottles and cigarette butts that littered the dusty tiled flooring._

"_Father? Are you home?" he called out again. Still no response._

_He turned and looked into the dirty mirror that hung on the door. He looked older than before; fourteen, maybe fifteen years old._

_He turned back around to look into the living room, scanning over the furniture that laid casually, and mostly in a pointless position around the room. He looked down the hall of the house that lead down to his father's room and the bathroom._

_Nothing, except the walls looked charred. Like there had been a house-fire. But he never remembered that happening._

_He walked slowly down the hall, and opened the first door he saw. The door to the room he was never allowed in. actually, he didn't even know what the room was; all he'd ever seen was the door itself and not much more that could give away what kind of room it was._

_He stepped inside slowly and saw a spiral stair-case; and nothing more. He walked down the stairs cautiously, seeing that the walls were also burnt by a nonexistent fire._

_He got to the step that was maybe seventh from the bottom, and looked around the supporting-beam that held the stair-case._

_He saw his father._

_And Mikey._

_But something wasn't right. Mikey was about seventeen, and he was tied to the wall. Bloodied slashes lining his bare chest. _

_Frank looked down a bit more seeing that Mikey was completely naked, blood dripping from what seemed to be everywhere… but the most frightening spot that the blood was seeping from was his butt. Frank knew exactly what that meant; he had lived it most his life. Mikey had been raped by Frank's father._

_By now, Bob had looked over his shoulder to see Frank staring wide-eyed at the scene._

_Bob lunged forward to where Frank stood, holding a knife high above his head, then, once close enough, flung his arm down, slashing Frank's face with the rusty blade of the dull knife._

_Frank woke up._

Suddenly, there was a light knock on the door, "Frank, dear, are you alright in there?"

It was Billie.

"Uhm… Y-Yeah… I- Uh… I'm fine…" frank said, putting his weight back on his feet, and spinning around to open the bathroom-door to look at Billie.

"Oh my God! Frankie, dear, what happened to your face!" Billie gasped, and fell to his knees to examine Frank's face.

There was a long, bloody cut from the left of Frank's forehead, over his eye, nose, and lip, and ending on the right side of his chin.

"I-I… Uh… I had… Uhm… a n-nightmare…" Frank said, looking down at the floor to avoid Billie's worried eyes. No one had ever worried for Frank before, it was strange and Frank wasn't sure he liked it all that much.

"Oh, dear! Here, let me clean that up for you, yeah?"

Frank nodded, still locking his gaze on the floor.

Billie lifted Frank onto the counter and let him sit there while he retrieved some items from the cabinet.

He stood in front of where Frank was sitting, and lifted frank's head by gently touching under his chin.

"This may sting a bit, but it will help it feel better later on, okay?"

"Uh… O-Okay, Billie…"

Billie squirted Neosporin into his hand, and lightly dabbed it onto Frank's cut.

"Frank, can you tell me what your dream was about, dear?" Billie requested.

"D-Do… Uh… Do I h-have to..?" Frank responded, not wanting to share his dream even with the only person he almost completely trusted.

"No, dear, you don't have to if you don't want to." Billie finished rubbing the Neosporin on Frank's wound, and flashed a tired smile to him. "If you don't want to be alone, you can just come in and sleep with Gerard and I."

Frank looked up slowly into Billie's green eyes, "R-Really..?"

Billie nodded, and helped Frank down off of the counter.

Frank took hold of Billie's hand, and looked at him innocently.

Billie smiled again, and led Frank to his bedroom where he could spend the remainder of the night in peace.

Almost.

Frank's dream kept repeating itself throughout the night, though he woke up half way through each time before it got to the part where he walked down the stairs. At some point, he could see the sun rising through the bedroom window, so he decided to just lay awake between his two guardians until one of them woke up.

It had been a few hours before Gerard woke up. He rolled over, slowly opening his eyes to see Frank staring at the ceiling.

Gerard smiled, "Good morning Frank." He whispered.

Frank moved his eyes to look at Gerard, "G-Good morning, G-Gerard…"

"I'm going to make some breakfast, would you like to join me?"

Frank took a moment to think before he nodded his head.

He followed Gerard out of the bed and down the hall to the kitchen.

"What would you like, sweetheart? I can make sausage, honey ham… I'm pretty sure there's some bacon in here too." Gerard offered, looking in the fridge.

"I… Uh… I-I don't eat… Meat." Frank replied.

Gerard smiled back at him, "Okay, how about pancakes, dear?"

Frank nodded.

Gerard gathered the supplies he needed, and began whisking a bowl of pancake batter. He smiled down at Frank, "So, Frankie, what kind of music do you like? What bands?"

Frank looked up from where his eyes were glued on the tiled kitchen floor, "Erm… I-I like The M-Misfits… and… Uh… Smashing Pumpkins a-are pretty good too…"

Gerard's smile grew, "Really? We have loads of metal CD's laying around! We could put a stereo in your room if you'd like!"

Frank didn't get it. Why were these people being kind to him and offering to actually _give_ him stuff, and not making him eat meat! His dad had always taken his things and literally crammed meat down his throat until he gagged and couldn't breathe. This generosity thing just made absolutely no sense!

"Uhm… Th-that'd be… c-cool." Frank said, trying to avoid eye-contact with the red-haired individual.

Gerard smiled again, and poured batter onto a pan to cook the pancakes.

A few minutes later, Billie Joe came in.

He inhaled deeply, and smiled over at Gerard, "You haven't made pancakes in a while… and no meat either?"

Gerard looked over at Billie, still smiling his usual sweet, motherly grin, "Frankie's vegetarian." He practically sang in response.

"Oh, he is? Alrighty then, that's nice." Billie flashed a smile and a wink down at Frank, then looked back at Gerard to converse in some conversation that Frank didn't pay much attention to.

Frank was utterly surprised. He expected something more from that whole "vegetarian" thing, but Gerard obviously didn't care, and Billie didn't even give it a second thought. Things were just too damn confusing in this house sometimes.

At some point, Mikey finally decided to wake up and join them.

He walked in, rubbing his eyes and dragging his feet lazily across the floor.

He yawned, "Good morning Papa Billie, good morning Papa Gee."

Billie and Gerard shared a, "Morning." Then returned back to their food.

"What's for breakfast?" Mikey questioned, sniffing the air.

Frank continued to eat peacefully while he listened to Billie, Gerard, and Mikey talking about whatever was probably their usual discussion. Gerard got up to fix Mikey a plate, Billie sat, drinking his coffee and looking at something in the newspaper (Gerard had said something about some comic; that was probably it) and Mikey plopped down in the chair by frank and began scarfing down his pancakes.

"Frankie, I was thinking later we could walk around the neighborhood and I could show you all the fun places to hang out! Oh! And I could teach you some more about the guitar, if you'd like!" Mikey said (or yelled) around a clump of food in his mouth.

Frank smiled slightly, "That'd be f-fun."

Mikey nodded excitedly, and continued to eat his pancakes.

After breakfast, Mikey borrowed Gerard's cell-phone so they were able to go further into the town without having to worry about hearing Billie or Gerard yelling for them to start heading back, and he and Frank set off into the neighborhood, Mikey talking non-stop the entire time.

"So, first I was thinking we could go over to the park and I could show you where I once found a big knife! Then we could shoot out randomly from there! But we have to avoid running into the middle-schoolers… because once a guy named Bert punched me in the face and stole my Gameboy! FOR NO REASON!"

"uh.. A-Alright…"

"You don't talk much, do you, Frank?"

"I-I guess not…"

"Hey, I was wondering… not that I don't like you or anything like that… but why do you live with me? Papa Billie and Papa Gerard won't tell me."

"I-I Uh… I don't think… I'm not sure if I'm… allowed to tell you…"

"Well that sucks!" Mikey pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I-I'm sorry…"

"Whatever, man…"

It only took about ten minutes to reach the park. Mikey said the way they went was a shortcut that he had found a while back, but he hasn't showed it to anyone else; especially not Gerard or Billie… Though, he never said why he didn't show them, but it didn't matter much to Frank anyway.

It wasn't a big park; there was a small pond, with a little stream leading to another pond at the other side of the park, a decent-sized bridge went across the stream near the middle of its length, There was a small hill, with a large tree at the top, and a small play-ground with a few swings, a slide, and a see-saw.

Frank was astounded by it. He's never seen a park before, and he just wanted to burst out, running and laughing, and playing until the sun died. But he didn't.

"This is the park, it's not much, but it's a nice place to come when you want people to leave you alone," Mikey said, grabbing Frank's hand gently, "I can show you my secret place if you promise not to show anyone else."

Frank was only a little scared by Mikey's touch, but not too much. He smiled slightly over to Mikey, "I-I wouldn't sh-show anyone… b-but why w-would you sh-ow me..?"

Mikey smiled bigger, and intertwined his fingers with Frank's, "Because we're brothers now, and brothers should share everything with eachother no matter what!"

Frank didn't speak for a moment, he just aloud his eyes to flash wider and stare at Mikey, "Erm… M-Mikey…"

"Yeah, Frankie?"

"I- Uh… I was r-raped… by m-my father…"

"Sorry, Ray." Billie said, letting the officer into his house, "I forgot today was Friday and that you were coming by to check on Frankie. I'll call Mikey and tell him to head back now. Sorry."

"It's fine, it's not like I have anything better to do today, plus it's nice to get to see you again. It feels like it's been years sense we just sat down and had a real conversation."

"Oh, I know, right!" Billie said, pulling out his cell phone and punching in the numbers to call Gerard's phone.

Mikey didn't speak, he didn't even breath. He felt the phone vibrating in his pocket, but he ignored it.

"Uhm…" Frank said, trying to get a reaction from Mikey.

"Y-Your own f-father… RAPED YOU!" Mikey yelled, louder than intended, though he didn't notice.

"Y-Yeah… Th-That's… Erm… That's why I l-live with you…"

Mikey stared at frank for a few more seconds before he fell into him, latching his arms around frank's tiny body.

"Oh, god Frank!" Mikey cried, "I'm so sorry, Frankie! More than ever before, I'm just so sorry!"

"Well that's strange…" Billie said, hanging up the phone, and turning back to Ray.

"What is it?" Ray asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mikey always answers the phone, but it went to voicemail this time. Do you think they're alright?"

"They're probably fine, Billie, Mikey's a smart kid, and we both know by now that Frank would scream if someone he didn't know even got close to him." Ray said, standing up and placing a hand on Billie's shoulder.

"That's true, I'll try calling him again; if he doesn't answer, we can go look for them. They said they'd be at the park for a while, so that's probably where they are." Billie replied, re-dialing Gerard's phone and listening to it ring until it went to voicemail. "Alright, let's go to the park."

Frank and Mikey stayed in that position for a while, both sobbing into eachother's shoulders. They didn't even notice when Billie pulled into the three-car parking-lot that was only meters from where they stood.

"Mikey, Frank! What's wrong!" Billie called, rushing out to where the two boys stood.

Ray exited the car slower, but sped-walked over to where the three of them were at.

Mikey looked up innocently, "I-I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls, Papa Billie…"

"That's fine Michael, just tell me what happened."

Mikey glanced over at Frank, whom was holding his hands behind his back and letting his head droop forward so he was staring at the pavement below.

"Uh… F-Frankie told me why he lives… with us…" Mikey said softly, his voice broken with sadness.

Billie looked back at Ray to see his expression: apathetic, and then looked back at Mikey, whom was now also staring at the concrete.

"Oh…" was all that escaped Billie's lips before he stood up, and held one of each the boys' hands, and led them over to the car.

Once they returned to Billie's house, Mikey and Billie went to Mikey's room and Ray sat down with Frank in the family room.

"So Frank, how are you?" Ray asked to start off his list of questions.

"Uhm… I-I'm fine…"

"That's good. Now, how have Gerard and Billie been treating you? What do you think of them?"

"They-They're really n-nice to me…"

"Okay, that's great. And how about-"

"Ray?" Frank cut him off.

"Uh… Yes Frank?"

"Why a-are we doing th-this..?"

"Doing what, Frank?"

"This… Uhm… This q-questioning thing…" Frank looked down at his lap shyly.

"We're doing it so I can make sure you're able to get better."

"Th-Then… What's wrong with me..?"

Ray paused for a moment, "Nothing's wrong with you, Frank…"

Frank looked up for a moment, and then sighed through his nose, "Uh… O-Okay."

Ray exhaled, "Actually, Frank, I think we're done for today… I'll be back next week Friday to ask you more questions, alright?"

Frank nodded his head lazily, and stood up the same moment Ray did.

"Billie, I'm heading out" Ray called down the hall.

Billie walked out of Mikey's room, followed by Mikey.

"Alright Ray," he said, shaking Ray's hand, "Did you get what you needed?"

"Well, it could have gone smoother, but it's fine for now. I'll be back Friday."

"Okay, Ray, I'll make a mental note of it so we don't have a repeat of today." Billie said, smiling as usual.

"Bye Billie."

"Goodbye Raymond."

They both waved at eachother, then Billie closed the door gingerly.

Mikey and Frank were standing side-by-side, both with their hands in their pockets, staring at the ground beneath them.

"Well," Billie said, turning around and looking at the two young children, "What would you two like for lunch?"

Frank and Mikey shared a confused glance. They both thought they'd be scolded for either not answering the calls, or for Frank telling Mikey what had happened… Well, Mikey thought he'd be scolded, Frank thought he'd be beaten.

"Uh… Grilled cheese and tomato-soup..?" Mikey said, looking over to Frank for his approval.

Frank looked apathetic about it.

"Grilled cheese it is!" Billie said, walking into the kitchen and getting out the essentials for the sandwiches.

Mikey looked over to frank again, "That sure as hell was close…"

"Y-You got that r-right, Mikes…"

It was finally Monday, Billie was driving Mikey and Frank to school, Black Flag blasting through the car's stereo. Mikey was, as usual, talking to frank about something that didn't really matter, and Frank was thinking about the dream he had been having nightly.

It wasn't always the exact same thing. Sometimes it was from different points of view, or he had done something differently, but each night Frank woke up with a new cut or scratch or bruise of some sort. Most the time on his face.

"… And then I can show you how to tune it, too!" And yet again, Mikey was talking about Frank playing the guitar.

They had practiced together on Sunday, and Mikey was genuinely impressed with frank's skills, but then again Mikey was impressed by a lot of things so that told Frank not to get his hopes up too high.

"Okay, boys, here we are. Now, Mikey be sure to show Frank around." Billie said, "And if anyone tries to mess with you, just remember you two are a team!" With that, Billie winked and the two of them exited the car.

Billie drove off, and now, Frank felt like his stomach was going to fall out of his mouth. He felt sick and nervous. Sure he'd been to school before, but he'd never paid any attention to what the teachers had to say, and he was always being beaten so much it didn't even matter, but now he was expected to add and subtract and multiply and divide; all things he was supposed to learn the years before, but he didn't. All he remembered from the year before was the teacher saying something along the lines of, "Fourth grade is harder than any other grade, and you'll have to know cursive because that's what they expect you to write in." … Something like that.

But Frank didn't know cursive. He barely knew how to print for fuck's sake!

It was too late to turn back now, so he walked in behind Mikey. Luckily they were in the same class because Mikey had been suspended so often the year before for fights he didn't start that he had to repeat the year.

"Just stick by me, Frankie, I'll show you everything you need to know!" Mikey said happily as he directed Frank to their classroom.

It all went better than Frank had thought. He sat right next to Mikey and a couple girls, Lyndsie and Jamia, and all three of them helped him with everything he needed to know. He thought he'd be bullied by someone, but Mikey knew a spot on the playground that no one else knew about and nobody bothered them at all! The only problem they had was when one of the middle-schoolers had "accidentally" flipped Frank's food-tray into his face. But that was it, and it didn't even hurt that bad!

But it would have to end sometime.

"How was school today, Frankie?" Gerard asked as he placed a spoonful of green-beans onto Frank's plate.

It was Thursday now, and Frank had managed to hide all of his cuts and bumps from Mikey, Billie, and Gerard. He didn't want Mikey to know because Mikey would probably laugh at him for being so weak, and he didn't want the guardians to know because they were bound to be worried about him, which he still wasn't comfortable with.

"Uh… I-It was go-od…" Frank said softly, trying to avoid eye-contact with Gerard. He hated to lie to him. Gerard had the kindest, most motherly face he'd ever seen on a man before, and it made him feel bad to lie to someone so similar to his own mother.

"That's good, what about you Mikes?" Gerard asked, sitting in his spot at the end of the table.

"It was fine for me, but I saw some poor kid getting beaten-up by Bert McCracken! It was awful! There was blood everywhere, and the kid was so short he could have been a first-grader!" Mikey seemed to say this all in one breath somehow.

"Oh dear!" Gerard responded, "I feel bad for that poor kid. I'm just glad it wasn't one of you two."

Frank cringed slightly at the pain in his lower abdomen. The place where Bert had kicked him was stinging and burning terribly.

Mikey nodded, "Yeah! I'd hate it to see Frankie get hurt ever again!

Billie smiled over at Gerard with some kind of accomplished look, and Gerard shared the same emotion.

It was around one in the morning. Frank couldn't sleep, a mixture of both his dream and the pain from his pounding was keeping him up.

He limped his way into the bathroom, and pulled his shirt off over his head to examine the bruise that was left over his lower ribs. He toughed it gently, but the pain was so intense that he whimpered even at his own touch. He didn't think he was very loud, but someone obviously heard him cry out in pain.

There was a light knock and a soft, worried voice, "Frank, are you alright in there!"

It was Gerard.

"U-Uh… Yeah… I-I'm Uh…" he was trying to rush to put his shirt back on before he opened the door, but he hit his bruise too hard and let out another cry.

"I'm coming in!" Gerard said, louder this time, then opened the door up and stared at frank for a second.

It took a while for him to really see what he was looking at, but when he did he fell to his knees, "Oh my God! Frank, darling! What happened!"

"Uh… I-I… Erm…" Frank trailed off. He made the mistake of looking down into Gerard's eyes.

Gerard was tearing up, his green-hazel eyes glistening with the moisture, and they reflected fear, love, and maybe even anger of some sort.

"Frankie, dear, did Bert do this to you?"

Frank looks at a side and nodded slowly.

Gerard exhaled, "You and Mikey are staying home from school tomorrow, okay?"

Frank nodded again, this time slightly happy not to have to go back to that hell-hole normal people called "school".

Gerard sent Frank back to bed, and went off to tell Billie what had happened.

On Friday, Gerard insisted on taking Frank to the hospital in case he had broken his ribs or something to the affect.

Mikey tagged along because Billie had to go to work, so Mikey and Frank sat in the waiting room while Gerard filled out paper work at the front-desk.

"Frankie, why didn't you tell me he beat you up? I could have helped somehow…" Mikey asked, sliding a little closer to Frank on the couch they were sitting on.

"Uh…. I-I don't… know…"

"Well, if anything ever happens to you again, just tell me! I'm pretty good with this kind of stuff! I've had… enough experience…" Mikey smiled at the end to seem convincing.

Frank simply sighed and nodded, staring at his shoes.

"Mr. Iero!" A nurse called from the hallway across from where the three of them were sitting.

Gerard smiled, and took Franks hand softly. They walked into a small room with a counter and a sing, a table-bed looking thing with paper lying over it, and three extra chairs lined up against a wall. It smelt metallic and artificially clean, and it was cold; even colder than the waiting room had been.

"Just take a seat right there on the table; the doctor will be right with you" The nurse said, smiling down to Frank, then walked out.

Gerard helped Frank up and they waited no more than two minutes before the doctor came in.

"Hello, Frank, I'm Dr. Allman, but you can call me Quinn if you'd like. How are you today?"

"I-I'm fine…"

"That's good. So I hear you got into a little scuffle at school, yes?"

"Uh-Hu…"

"I'm sorry to hear that. May I please see where the other boy hurt you?"

Frank looked over at Gerard, fear in his features. Gerard simply nodded to say that he could trust Quinn, so Frank pulled his shirt up over his head, and set it beside him on the table.

Quinn gently ran his fingers along the edges of where the bruise was, making sure not to touch the injury itself.

"Oh dear. Mr. Armstrong?" Quinn said.

"Yes, Quinn?" Gerard replied, eager to figure out what the problem was.

"We're going to have to do some x-rays on Frank to see if his ribs are broken or not."

"Alright, do whatever you need to do."

"Okay Frank," Quinn said as he moved a machine around, and set a lens over a light, "I'm just going to take a picture of your ribs, so hold still, got it?"

Frank nodded and Quinn placed the x-ray machine close to touching Frank. Quinn walked out, took the picture, then walked back in.

"Okay, thank you Frank." Quinn smiled, and reached a hand out to help Frank up from his spot.

"Th-That's all..?"

"Yup!"

Quinn led Frank to where Mikey was and pulled Gerard aside to discuss the situation.

Frank and Mikey, curious to figure it out themselves, eavesdropped on the adults' conversation.

"Well, Frank's two lower ribs are fractured towards the center, and the third one up, as you can see, is slightly cracked. There's not much we can really do about the ribs in this area, so you'll just have to wait for them to heal on their own. Though, I'd advise you to keep him out of school for a while because if anything else happens, he may end up needing surgery."

"Alright, I think I'll just keep them both out of school, then."

"Okay. Well, I'd like for you to bring Frank back in on Saturday next week, alright."

"Okay."

"Wow, Frankie! I've never broke ribs before! The most I broke was my arms!" Mikey cheered t Frank once they had decided that they had heard what they wanted to hear.

"R-really..? I've broken th-them more than I c-could remember… Well, m-my dad broke them I-I should say…" Frank replied, looking down at his convers again.

"Really! That's terrible!"

"Yeah…"

A few months later and it was October 29th. Frank knew his birthday was in a couple days, but he didn't expect much. He didn't really want much either. He had grown completely used to being neglected on his birthdays, and turning eight wasn't that big of a deal anyways.

The motions of school, and bullying, and trying to keep up in class had made the days pass quite quickly for him. He was happy he sat by Mikey, Lyndsie, and Jamia, or he'd have all F's in school.

Frank walked down the hallway from his room, and went into the kitchen where Billie was making coffee. Sense it was Sunday, Billie had the day off of work.

"Good morning, Frankie. How are you?"

"G-Good, and you." Frank replied, taking a piece of toast from the plate on the counter.

"I'm fine." Billie smiled down at Frank, "Hey, Frankie, I was wondering…"

"…Y-Yeah?"

"What do you want for your birthday? Gerard said you'd probably want a CD or an mp3 player, but I'd figured I'd ask anyway."

Frank swallowed a clump of bread in his mouth, "…I-I get things f-for being born..?" He said quietly and slightly confused.

Billie just nodded with a smile as a response.

"I-I uh… I don't know… I-I'll think about it…" Frank flashed a quick smile, and walked back down the hall, this time going into Mikey's room.

Mikey's bedroom was always pretty dark. The only light that ever showed came from the small window that was pretty much completely covered in band posters. Mikey didn't have much furniture, either. Just a mattress on the floor, a small book-shelf that was covered in comics and CD's, and a desk. He used his bass-amp as a bed-side table, and kept his bass wedged in between the bed and the amp.

Frank liked Mikey's room.

Frank crawled into the bed besides the skinny boy, and fell half-asleep. This being his usual routine in the mornings, so Mikey never found it odd. Mikey was actually the one who suggested it in the first place!

A bit later, Mikey slowly opened his eyes and let a small smile grace his face, "Good morning brother!" He cheered, slicking his arms around Frank's tiny frame.

Frank smiled at being referred to as "brother", and hugged Mikey back

"Good morning, bro!" Frank cooed, "Hey, I was wondering something…"

"What is it, Frankie?"

"Would it be too much to ask for a new guitar for my birthday..?"

Mikey thought for a moment, then shook his head, "Of course not! I got my bass for my birthday, and the amp too! I'm sure Papa Billie and Papa Gee would be all over getting you a guitar!"

Frank smiled, and nuzzled his face into Mikey's chest, "Thanks Mikes!"

Shortly after, they both drifted back to sleep.

It was around noon when Frank and Mikey woke up.

They got out of bed, and walked down the hall to the living room where Billie and Gerard were curled up together watching The Lion King.

Billie looked back over his shoulder as Mikey and Frank came through the threshold.

"Sleep well, boys?"

They both nodded.

"Papa Billie, Can Frank and I go to the park please?"

"Sure, be back by dinner time, alright?"

"Thanks Papa!"

With that, Mikey and Frank walked out the door.

Mikey and Frank were heading through the short-cut, as they did every time they would head to the park, and they heard a noise.

Mikey stopped and put his arm out in front of Frank, "Did you hear that, Frankie..?" He asked, looking back slightly trying not to be too obvious.

Frank nodded, "Yeah, Mikes… what was it..?"

"I-I don't know… Let's just keep going… it was probably nothing…" Mikey proposed and started walking slowly, Frank clinging to his arm.

Little did they know, their worst nightmare was hiding in the trees behind them.

It was Frank's birthday today.

He was turning eight, which he thought wasn't a big deal at all, it would be just like turning six and seven. Nothing special, just another year added to his life. Apparently, it was a big deal, though.

He woke up and walked down the hall, but before reaching the kitchen, Billie stopped him in his tracks.

"Hold up, little man, why don't you just go straight to Mikey's room this morning, okay?" Billie said, hiding something behind his back with one hand, and directing Frank towards Mikey's room with the other.

"Uh… O-Okay, Bill-Billie…" Frank said, confused as he was gently pushed into Mikey's room, the door closing lightly behind him.

Frank looked around, inhaling deeply before walking over to Mikey's bed, and sliding in closely to his brother.

Mikey fluttered his eye-lids and looked at Frank, "Good morning, little bro." He whispered, then wrapped his arms around Frank's small body, pulling him closely before falling back to sleep.

They both woke up later by Gerard shaking them gently, and casting his warm smile down on them.

"Good morning, kidos!" Gerard cooed happily.

"Good morning papa Gee!" Mikey replied, sitting up and rubbing his still-tired eyes.

"G-Good morning G-Gerard." Frank said, sitting up as well.

Gerard smiled, "Come on, get dressed and come into the living room, I think you'll both enjoy this!" With that, Gerard got up and walked out of Mikey's room.

Frank and Mikey got dressed rather quickly.

"What do you think's going on, Mikey?" Frank asked while pulling on a pair of black jeans.

"Well, it IS your birthday! Maybe they got you something special!"

Frank shook his head, "No, no one cares about my birthday. Besides, it's Halloween, they probably just have costumes out there."

Mikey pulled on his Misfits shirt and smiled at Frank, "I care about your birthday, Frankie!"

"Thanks," Frank sighed, "But no one else does other than you and me…"

Mikey frowned and they continued getting dressed in silence.

Mikey and Frank were almost down the hall, and into the living room, but before they could reach there, gerard and Billie stepped in their path.

They were both smiling from ear to ear, almost literally.

"Close your eyes, Frankie!" Billie cheered happily, and placed his hands over the boy's eyes.

"Uh… O-okay…" Frank spit out, jumbled.

Billie led him into the living room and stopped walking, "Okay, Frank, if you don't like it, tell me now and we can trade it out for another one, but…" Billie moved his hands out of the boy's sight, 'happy birthday, son."

Frank stared in disbelief.

Right in front of him was the most beautiful guitar he'd ever seen.

It was an Epiphone Elitist Les Paul Custom guitar with an Alpine White finish, black pick-ups, and letters decaled on the bottom that were sparkly and read "PANSY".

He stayed totally still, his mouth agape, "O-Oh my god…"

He suddenly hugged Billie and Gerard tightly, "Thank you Papa Billie, thank you Papa Gerard!"

That was it. His shyness had just vanished and he finally felt like an actual member of the entire family. Not just Mikey's brother, but Billie and Gerard's son as well. It was, by far, the happiest moment he had ever experienced at his young age.

Seven years had gone by now.

School went by as usual, the occasional beating, not-so good grades. Frank's morning routine of joining Mikey in his bed every morning had faded and withered away; as had his nightmares. He had dated Jamia a few times, on and off; and had also dated Lyndsie, though Lyndsie was better as a good friend than she was as a "girlfriend", now he was single; had been all year.

Mikey ended up dating some girl, Alicia, they lasted a while, but Frank caught her making-out with one of the douchey jock guys, and that ended the second he told Mikey.

Frank and Mikey were walking down the short-cut to the park. They were on their way to band practice, or what would better be called "Sit around in the drummer's basement and get high" considering the only one that practiced anything was the drummer, who practiced rolling duebies.

When they first started, and were semi-serious; Frank was the singer and guitarist, Mikey the bassist, and their college-buddy, Mike Dirnt, was the drummed. The seriousness only lasted a week, though, and it just became a good place to get shit-faced.

"What time is it, Frank?" Mikey asked, adjusting his bass on his back.

"Hell, I didn't bring my phone. I thought you did." Frank replied patting his pockets.

"Shit, no. What if Billie or Gee-tard try to call us and tell us to start heading home!"

"Let's go back and get them so we don't get into any more shit."

They both turned on their heels and began walking back towards the house. Frank looked down at his shoe-lace; which was untied, and felt his head collide with something soft.

He looked up, but didn't see much before he was slammed down onto the concrete with a hard thud.

His vision went blurry, he heard Mikey scream and a raspy male voice. Once he regained his vision, he stood to his feet, and threw a punch at whoever was holding Mikey, hitting the guy in the waist.

The man laughed and twisted Frank's arm around and behind his back. Frank let out a pained cry, and that's when he heard the familiar click that indicated the safety on a gun was being released, he stayed quiet after that.

The man was holding Mikey hostage and holding a gun pointed at Frank with one arm, and holding Frank with the other.

"You're both coming with me…" The ice-cold voice said dully before beginning to push Frank and Mikey along.

Frank didn't pay much attention to where he was going, he was too scared to do so. He kept looking over at Mikey, who's eyes were glued to the pavement as they walked.

'What the hell is this?' Frank thought, 'Who is this, what the fuck do they want from Mikey and I? I wish I had my cellphone right now. FUCK! Why the hell didn't I bring my phone! Fucking Gerard was right, I should always have that damned thing with me at all times… Of all the teenagers in this fucking city, why'd this fucker take _us_? Why wouldn't he take a couple popular kids? That way there'd be publicity with it… That's what people like this want, right? Publicity?'

"Turn right, now." The man with the gun said.

Frank finally looked up at where he was, there was a sign by him that read "West Placement Avenue".

'Wait… what the fu-' Frank's thought was replaced by a memory.

A memory from when he was seven.

_He was walking slowly down the hall to the bathroom to shower. He needed that shower so badly. He needed so badly to wash his father's bodily fluid and his own blood off of himself. It was an awful feeling. Sticky and stinging him terribly in the places he thought were supposed to be just his own, and no one else was supposed to be allowed to see or touch._

_But he didn't shower, his father stepped in his path and went into the bathroom before him, grabbing a razor._

_His father stepped back out, razor in hand, and smirked down at little Frank, and popped the blade from the razor, dropping the plastic piece on the floor._

"_You deserve to be punished like this, Frank." He said, his raspy voice breaking the eerie silence that had grown in the room, "You've been a bad child, Frank."_

_After saying this, Frank's father knelt down next to Frank, smirking still, and brought the blade down to Frank's neck._

Frank shook his head clear of the memory, still being pushed into his old neighborhood.

It didn't take him long to realize that he was heading to his old house.

And the man holding him was his father.

The man stopped pushing them, making them take a good look at Frank's old house.

"Take a good look at where you die, boys." Bob said, still holding them, maybe tighter than before.

The house almost looked the same as before, but this time half of it looked as if it'd been burnt in a bad fire, but the peeling blue shutters still hung on loosely, and the red-brown painted door was still clinging to its hinges in the threshold.

Bob started shoving them again, now digging the gun into Frank's hip as they walked.

He led them down the charred hallway to the room Frank was never allowed in, and opened the door.

It was just like the dream had shown.

Bob directed them down the spiral-staircase to the brick wall that the chains and cuffs hung from.

Bob shoved Frank to the ground, planting his foot on his chest to keep him down as he hooked Mikey to the wall. Once finished with Mikey, he yanked Frank upward and slammed him against the wall to chain him as well.

"I bet you're wondering how I found you, son…" Bob said, turning around to mess with some things on a regular wooden table that was across from where Frank and Mikey were hanging.

"Don't fucking call me that." Frank spat.

"Well, I was in prison…" Bob didn't care what Frank's response was, he would tell them the story either way, "with a man named Bert McCracken… can you believe the man named his son after him! Talk about conceited! …anyways, the guy got out on probation, and I told him that if he found my son, you, and his new family, that I would give him eight packs for payment. And he did it, he found you for me! And he visited me and told me your location… your exact location. And you idiots were stupid enough to return to the same cut-through the woods!" bob began to laugh, and turned back to face Frank and Mikey, "And now, I have you back. And I'm going to give you what you deserve."

Frank narrowed his eyes, "YOU FUCKING BAS- TAAAAAAH!"

Bob flipped a switch before Frank could finish, sending electricity through both Mikey's and Frank's bodies. Sharp and painful.

'I don't suggest getting snappy, boy!" Bob shouted before letting out a cruel laugh and heading back up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

"F-Frankie…" Mikey mumbled, blood dripping lazily from the left corner of his mouth.

"Y-Yeah, Mikes..?" Frank replied, slightly tipping his head to look at Mikey, whom was looking back at him.

"We're going to die. Aren't we, Frankie..?"

"…No, Mikey. We're not going to fucking die."

"… Huh?"

"I promise you, we're both going to get out of here alive. I'm not letting this fucking mother-murderer take my life after what I've been through with him, and I'll be dammed if I let him take your life away from you."

Mikey grew silent, and let his head drop.

Bob's plan wasn't going quite correctly. He was going to starve them to death and not touch them at all other than with electricity, but every time he went down into the basement, he felt the need to make them feel more pain than they already had. It had been a day and a half, and he had decided to bring old memories into action for Frank, and force Mikey to watch. It was so hilarious for him to think about, and even more fun for him to do.

Frank hung from the wall, his ass still bleeding from the hour before. The pain was worse than he remembered from his childhood. It was a sharper and deeper feeling, it burned and stung, and bled. It bled more and more with each fresh rape.

"Frank…" Mikey whispered

"Yeah, Mikey..?" Frank replied quietly

"How do you feel..? Are you alright..?"

Frank sighed painfully, "M-My ass hurts, Mike. My ass hurts."

It wasn't just his butt that was pained. The raping hurt all of him. His ass-hole was torn up and bleeding, his intestines felt twisted, his stomach felt like a hollow pit of sickness, his throat and lungs stung from screaming, and his brain hurt, he was scarred there. His mental state wasn't normal. He had seen and felt too much to be considered normal anymore.

It had now been three foodless days, they occasionally got water, but that was only so they wouldn't pass out and feel what Bob thought of as a lack of torture.

Bob was bored with his son now. Raping him wasn't enough, it didn't scar Frank emotionally enough… but if Bob raped Mikey, Frank would feel endlessly guilty for it. He didn't want to hurt Mikey, really, just damage Frank's mind more. Bob wanted Frank to be certifiably insane before he died.

Sense Frank and Mikey couldn't use the restroom, the cellar room was beginning to fill with the foul odor of fecal matter and urine. Both Frank and Mikey felt dirty now from both soiling themselves and the usual over-time smell that came from not showering.

They were both half-asleep, the room was dark and the air was heavy with the smell of their torture.

A crack of light grew from the upper-door way. "Hey skinny boy!" Bob shouted as he came down the stairs, "I have a surprise for you!"

Mikey and Frank opened their eyes lazily and looked down at Bob's sick grin.

Mikey only let out a quick mousey noise as a response.

"You're going to love this!" Bob said as he unhooked Mikey from the wall.

Bob slammed Mikey face-down onto the cement with his butt up in the air.

Mikey let out a surprised yelp as his left cheek hit the cold concrete floor.

It was Bob's plan, after all, to make Mikey and Frank have eye contact throughout the abuse.

Bob tore Mikey's soiled jeans off, and unzipped his own just to let his member out but not get naked. Before Mikey even stopped squirming around, he slammed his hardened-cock into the sixteen year old's butt hole, causing Mikey to scream a shrill yelp of hurt.

Mikey had never felt anything like this before, the soreness to his bottom and the ache spread throughout his entire body. The larger man's dick was surely going to make him bleed; if it hadn't already. Could this really be what Frank had felt almost his entire life? It was unbearable. The pain was everywhere. Mikey thought he'd be turned inside-out before the adult even decided to be finished.

It just kept going, he soon felt a liquid tripling down his thighs.

Blood.

Mikey wanted to pass out now. He hadn't felt this before, his throat hurt from screaming, and his screams were becoming silent from over-using his voice.

Soon, Mikey felt nothing in his lower-half. He wasn't paralyzed, just numb. But it hurt knowing the man was still thrusting into him and tearing out his anus.

He looked up into Frank's eyes, Frank looking back at him.

Mikey couldn't hear anything anymore, everything was just a high-pitch screeching noise, but he saw Frank's mouth moving out pleas and begging his father to stop. But shortly after, Mikey couldn't see anything.

Everything turned hospital-white. It was all glowing, there were only faded outlines that showed where Frank was.

But soon there was nothing.

No high-pitched noise.

No light.

No numbness.

Nothing.

"FATHER! FATHER FUCKING STOP IT!" frank screamed, his throat hurting.

He looked back at Mikey, who's eyes had lolled back into his head.

"FATHER STOP IT! YOU'RE KILLING HIM!"

Bob ignored for a few last thrusts, and came inside of the now-deceased boy's colon.

"Oh my!" Bob said sarcasm dripping from his words, "Looks like I'm now a necrophiliac!"

Bob kicked Mikey's corpse with a chuckle, and headed towards the stairs, "One down, one to go!"

The light left the room with the slamming of the door.

"Mikey…" Frank was sobbing, his voice hurt, "Mikey wake up… Please, M-Mikey. Mikey? Mikes? … Brother? Brother… Don't die… I promised you… I said you wouldn't die. You gotta help me keep my promise, Brother… Help me…. Mikey…"

Ray knocked on the door, sad with himself and for Billie and Gerard.

Billie flung the door open, dry tears stained his face, "Please, Ray! Please tell me you found them!"

"Billie… You-you're getting so thin… Have you been eating..?" Ray said, resting a hand on the small of Billie's back and escorting him over to the living room couch.

Billie sat and buried his face into his hands, "I don't matter, Ray. Just tell me you found them."

"I'm sorry, Billie… We do have a couple ideas, but they're nowhere we've looked. We're about to get their files in about their birth parents-"

"BOB!" Billie shouted cutting Ray off, "Frank's father! Frank's father, Bob Bryar! Has he gotten out of prison yet! How long has it been! Eight years, right! His sentence was eight years! Bob took them! Bob has them! Ray, Ray, are you listening to me!"

"Billie settle the fuck down! If he took them, where would he bring them!"

"FRANK'S OLD HOUSE! THE PLACE YOU FOUND HIM FROM!"

Frank was staring down at Mikey's dead body.

His brother's dead body.

Mikey didn't deserve this, Mikey deserved to live and grow up happily. He deserved to find a beautiful wife and get into a good band and go see movies with his family. All the simple things, that's what Mikey deserved from life. Not to be raped to death by the man that had stolen Frank's innocence.

Mikey deserved for Frank to keep his promise.

It was Frank's fault after all. If Frank had never become part of the family, Mikey wouldn't be in this… situation. If death could even be called a "situation".

There were yells coming from upstairs. Some from his father- from Bob, and some unfamiliar. The old bastard was probably yelling at the horses on the television like he had done when Frank was a small child.

But, no. it wasn't the TV, there were footsteps and the screaming got louder and closer and-

BANG!

And gunshots.

Frank clenched his fists and spit out some dry spit, "That bastard's practicing to kill me next… I deserve it. I deserve to die… He also deserves to die… Not as badly as me though…"

Blood dripped down from the floor-boards about seventeen feet away where the up-stairs hallway would be.

More footsteps, and the room flooded with light.

"This is officer Ray Toro, who's down here!"

Frank looked over at the staircase, "R-Ray… I-It's me… Frank…"

"Oh, Frank! We finally found you!" Ray said, running down the stairs and over to the wall to un-attach Frank from the cuffs.

"M-Mikey's dead Ray… It's my f-fault… It's a-all my fault…" Frank said as Ray slung him over his shoulder to carry him upstairs.

"Frank, it's not your fault. It's your fa-"

"No, R-Ray… It's m-me…"

Ray brought Frank back to Billie and Gerard's house.

They welcomed him back, relieved tears streaming down their faces. Though the happiness turned to agony when Ray explained Mikey's condition.

Frank returned to being the shy and depressed boy he had been when he first moved into Billie and Gerard's home, and everything seemed dark.

He'd go into Mikey's room late at night and run his fingers lightly over the things on the shelves, wiping them clear of the dust collecting on them.

One day, he'd decided he had had enough of living. He needed his brother back.

It was a Saturday morning, Billie was at work and Gerard was asleep. Frank walked into Mikey's bedroom and laid comfortably on the mattress on the floor, his guitar was leaning next to Mikey's bass on the wall. Frank reached onto the bass-amp and grabbed the pocket knife- Mikey's pocket knife.

He brought it to his right wrist and starting at the palm of his hand, he ran the blade down-wards to his elbow, then did the same to the other arm.

He tossed the knife aside and laid flat on Mikey's bed, his face showing no expression as he allowed himself to bleed-out onto the black sheets of Mikey's bed.

Soon, he'd be with Mikey again.

His brother.


End file.
